DA Revelations Episode 14: Fancy Smancy
by AngelExposed
Summary: The Professor is worried about Jessie's concerns about being the only child in the mansion; Jessie is dismayed when he decides to send her to Mathers Academy - a posh private school in Bayville.
1. Chapter 1: The Academy

DA Revelations

Episode 14 – Fancy Smancy

Chapter 1 – The Academy

When Kitty Pryde was called into Professor Xavier's office on that gloomy Friday morning, her first instinct was that something might be wrong. It was always the first instinct.

As she stepped through the door, pulling her hooded top tighter around herself, she glanced towards the desk where the Professor was seated, his eyes lifted to greet hers.

"Morning," he said.

"You sounded a bit worried when you called me down," Kitty said as she took a seat without being offered.

Professor Xavier moved some papers from his desk into a drawer, "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, of course not," Kitty shook her head, "I was feeding Caleb."

"Ah, how is he?" the Professor asked.

"He's great. His diaper was so bad this morning. It was like...Thai Green Curry...but with the worst smell...like the mens room at a really _bad_ bar."

He smiled, "it's nice to have a baby in the mansion again; it's been the first time in many many years that an infant so young has been living beneath this roof."

"Yeah," said Kitty, she smoothed her hair and tucked it behind her ear. "So...is this just a general visit about Caleb, or is there something specific you wanted to talk about?" she asked.

"Ah," said the Professor, and he smiled, "yes, there is. First, I wanted to let you know that as there is now a baby in the house, I'm arranging for the place to be baby-proofed."

"Wow, that's awesome..." Kitty admitted, "I was worrying about how he's gonna get around when he's older without tearing the place apart."

"Not only will doors and drawers, cupboards and the fridges be proofed, but also, I'm arranging for anything valuable and on display such as ornaments and busts to be moved into the attic, where they can't be broken, or cause any accidents."

"Thank you. It's so thoughtful – and generous," Kitty nodded.

"Second...I wanted to discuss something with you about Jessie."

"What now?" Kitty asked, the threat of distress already making her neck tense.

"She's becoming very restless lately – the lack of children her own age in the institute is causing her a lot of loneliness and making her even more dependent on adults – notably Remy – for companionship."

Kitty sighed sadly, "that's true. I've noticed it more and more. And I think it's gonna make it harder for her to connect to other kids – especially when she gets older and starts attending classes with other students here."

"I'm glad you agree with that," said the Professor, smiling. "I wondered what you thought about perhaps us enrolling her in a mainstream school – at least until her teens."

It was a valid suggestion; Jessie needed kids her own age and she needed to participate with kids outside of the institute, learn how to make friends. She _was _a mutant. But it didn't mean she had to live her life like one trapped in the mansion – she needed to be with the other kids. Perhaps with some people who were a little more normal than the unorthodox family in the mansion.

"It's a good idea," Kitty agreed, finally, "you're thinking Bayville elementary?"

"Mathers Academy, actually," the Professor replied.

"That's kinda fancy smancy for Jessie, isn't it? And isn't it like, super expensive?"

"It's expensive, but...well, I believe we can make arrangements."

"Will they take her?"

"If I make a contribution...I doubt they can refuse her admission."

"I guess it would make things easier for us all. And I think she'd be happier in the company of other kids."

"Do you agree then?"

"Absolutely...but...why does my opinion matter? I mean, you always know what's best. Besides, she's not really _my_ kid...so..." Kitty suddenly paused, remembering about Remy's say in this. He hadn't _had_ a say.

"Isn't Remy gonna go mad if we stick his daughter in a private school without even asking?"

The Professor scratched his chin, "I want to have this settled as soon as possible, and the less he needs to think about Jessie while he's in recovery, the speedier his recovery will be. Besides, I know if Jessie were my own I would want her to be in the best school possible, to have the best education and Mathers is definitely the nearest place to do so."

"I just hope he agrees with that when he comes back."

"Jessie is still under my own legal guardianship and her education and upbringing are still my responsibility. Even if he didn't agree...he has no legal rights...yet."

"Yet?"

"Just something Jessie said to me last night," the Professor sighed, "She asked if it would be _possible_ for Remy to adopt her."

"Wow...poor kid," said Kitty dully, "being Remy's daughter and _not_ knowing she is...and still _wanting _to be his kid. It's kind of messed up..."

"Yes. I'm aware."

"Professor, is she...I mean...is there a _chance _she's gonna grow up like him...with this depression, being messed up, not knowing how to cope with things?"

"Not if we can help it."

"Are you going to tell Remy about what she asked when he gets back from Muir Island?"

Professor Xavier faltered, "I...don't know. Instinct tells me that it would only hinder his recovery and therapy if I reveal this to him too soon. Chances are, after a few weeks at school Jessie might adapt and forget all about her adoption request."

Kitty shook her head, "it's really messed up."

"Bizarrely, she also asked me if Remy is Caleb's."

She blinked in reaction to this rather odd news, "What?! Where the fu—I mean...where could she have come up with such a stupid..."

"I believe the older students are responsible – and I'll be reprimanding them later, I assure you."

"What did you tell her?"

"That Remy is _not _Caleb's father, and it was really not her place to ask."

"I can't believe she asked that."  
"She's a little girl, Kitty. She's afraid of losing peoples love and attention – especially Remy's. And it's not surprising, given her previous upbringing. Six months here and she still hasn't quite realised that she's here for the rest of her life. She thinks it'll all disappear...she's clinging onto what she has."

"I guess then I can't blame her. Still, I wanna know _who _specifically said that."

"I'll be sure to ask her before I start handing out punishments," said the Professor.

"You're sure she's not lying and just made the idea up?"

"No...she was truthful. I sensed her honesty. By the way...keep a close eye on Jessie if you see her around...yesterday she zapped an elevator panel and got down into the hangar...she's seen everything we have down in there which – as you're aware – could cause problems if she should ever reveal this to anyone she meets in the outside world."

"That's true," Kitty nodded. "How are we going to play that off when she starts going to school?"

"I'm not sure yet, we may have to pre-warn teachers about an _overactive imagination_."

Kitty raised an eyebrow. "You really think she would tell everyone she meets that we have planes in our basement?"

"Who would even _believe_ her?" the Professor noted.

"Good point," Kitty nodded. "What about the issue of her being mutant – endangering students?"

"I think she has enough control at the moment that she won't be a serious risk. I think this week we will extensively work on her powers with her just to be sure she's ready."

Kitty stood up, "I need to go back to Caleb; Hank's watching him."

"Thank you for your input, Kitty."


	2. Chapter 2: Sizing Up

Chapter Two – Sizing Up

"Jessie, stop fidgeting," Miss Grey said softly, her voice was gentle yet strict as she spoke. Jessie sighed and tried to keep still, but it was difficult, she was standing on a chair while a lady in a rather drab and snobby looking clothes store was sizing up.

_Sizing me for what?_ Jessie wondered as she raised her arms so the old lady in the horn-rimmed glasses, plaid skirt and the blue sweater could wrap a measuring tape around her top half. _Isn't this the bad place to touch?_ Jessie wondered, looking down at the tape around her chest.

Jean touched Jessie's shoulder, "it's okay," she said quietly.

Yes, of course, that was Miss Grey's power, wasn't it? Reading minds. Just like the Professor. She'd heard all about their powers through the older students and through listening in to conversations, although they themselves had never directly told her about their abilities.

"You're right," said the old lady with the glasses to Miss Grey, her eyes were the colour of milky coffee and Jessie wondered if she could even see out of them. "She is rather small for her age...seven you said?"

"Yes," Miss Grey replied.

"I'd have assumed she was perhaps four. Five at the most."

Jessie felt rather insecure about this; she was small, and it couldn't be helped. In the Orphanage there'd been a four year old who had been taller than she was and it had felt downright embarrassing to be a mutant, and the smallest girl around.

"I don't believe have a blazer this size for her..." said the old woman worriedly, she moved to a rail and flicked through several hangers.

"I had a feeling that she might be hard to size," Miss Grey nodded, she folded her arms casually over her stomach.

Jessie looked worriedly between both women, why was the blazer even important? And what in the world _was _a blazer anyway?

"This is our smallest," said the old lady, finally, as she raised her arm to hold up a small jacket, it was a drab dark blue, very plain, ordinary and...well...ugly.

Jessie pouted. This was what they wanted her to wear? Not something pink? Not something colourful and soft and pretty? This ugly monstrosity that looked like something an adult should wear?

"Lets try this one," the old lady came over took Jessie's arm and slipped her arm into a sleeve; the lining was cold and silky, and Jessie didn't like the feeling of it much at all as she was forced to put her other arm into it. The blazer was heavy and weighed her down, her fingers barely could reach outside of the sleeves. She looked in the mirror as the old woman buttoned up the blazer. It stuck out at the front.

"It's too big," Jessie said, still pouting. She felt like crying; this wasn't what she wanted to wear and made her feel even smaller.

"Yes, I think so too," the old lady smiled and removed it from her, which Jessie was thankful for. "We can have one tailored of course for her, but it'll still be slightly bigger. She will grow into it – it would probably get her through the next grade."

"Great," said Miss Grey enthusiastically.

"I'll see to it that every thing else for her uniform is tailored for her, it'll be pricey however."

"Yes, my employer has an account here – so there's no limit on costs where this is concerned, so whatever you have to do to make sure she's comfortable and not drowning in the uniform is fine," explained Miss Grey with a nod.

"Have you thought about shoes?" asked the old lady.

Miss Grey paused, "not yet. I was going to ask actually where you would suggest."

"Millers on Oak Avenue – they do some wonderful school shoes. Mathers is strict, they must be either blue or navy, no exceptions. She will need a pair of plain white running shoes too – the school has a strict policy about boycotting branded shoes."

Wherever she was going to be, it sounded to Jessie like she wouldn't be allowed to wear her favourite Barbie sneakers or her pink suede fur-lined boots. This didn't sound like a very fun place at all.

When they left the expensive clothes store on Bayville Square, Jessie held onto Miss Grey's hand as they crossed the street to get to Miss Grey's Toyota Prius.

"Why do I have to have a jacket?"

"Because you're going to go to a school, Jessie," Miss Grey replied as she opened the back left hand door for Jessie and helped her into the car; she leaned into strap the little one into the booster seat.

"School?" Jessie asked in wonder. "But I _am _at school. Xavier's is a school," she reminded.

"Yes, but it's a school for mutants," Jean said after climbing into the drivers seat and shutting the door. "This is a kids school, for kids _your _age."

"But..." Jessie was about to speak, and then she suddenly realised that she had no choice about this; Miss Grey had already ordered the uniform, already intending to go get ugly bland shoes.

"It's going to be fine, Jessie, I swear. You'll be happier in a normal school, and it's only mornings and afternoons. We'll take you there in the morning, and pick you up in the afternoon. You'll make friends, you'll have better teachers, and you'll have lots of fun there."

Jessie was pretty sure that whenever the word 'school' was mentioned, that 'fun' rarely ever seemed to follow it. "But what if I don't like it there?" she asked.

"You need to at least _try_ to like it," said Miss Grey firmly, "Professor Xavier went to a lot of trouble yesterday arranging you to go there."

"Why can't I just stay at Xavier's for school?" Jessie pouted. She wondered if this was the first step of them getting rid of her; first she'd go to school during the day and then maybe, just like the kids in the movies, end up sleeping at the school in a room with five other girls, all of whom would make fun of her for being so small.

Miss Grey was silent for a moment, then said: "Because we're not trained to really teach first grade," she admitted, "and besides...you're not really meeting kids your own age at the institute..." she added.

"But that doesn't matter," Jessie tried. It _did_ matter. But she wanted to hang out with kids like her, not kids from a school – not _human_ kids.

"Why don't you want to go, Jessie?" Miss Grey asked, she was looking in her rear view mirror at the girl as she pulled the car along a street.

"Because...human kids are mean."

"That's not true," said Miss Grey, "besides, you're not going to _tell _them what you are."

"How can I do that? That's lying?"

"It's not lying. It's withholding the truth. And you can do that easily. It'd make things easier. They don't need to know you're mutant."

"But what if my powers go nuts?" Jessie asked.

"They haven't done so in five months, Jessie. You have good control of them for one so young. You're impressive."

Jessie liked that word. Impressive. It meant she had impressed people, that she was something special, something a little bit more extraordinary than others.

"Besides, you know to fuel your powers you have to draw it from energy sources, so as long as you don't do that at school, you'll be fine. You think you can do that?"

"Yeah..."

"Great," said Miss Grey. "Jessie, I promise, you're going to love school. You'll get art classes, and gym classes...and I was looking at the online site with the professor, and they even teach music!"

"Music?"

"Yes," said Miss Grey enthusiastically. "You'll get to learn to sing, and they'll teach you how to play an instrument."

"Do I get to pick which instrument?"

"I'm not sure," Miss Grey confessed, "but it'll be fun. You'll learn so many cool and interesting things that you just _won't_ learn with us."

The thought made Jessie sad; never spending another class with Miss Pryde? The thought left her feeling very down indeed.

"You'll still spend time with us," said Miss Grey; Jessie felt slightly violated that her mind had been read again. "It's just...not as _much _time during the day. You'll still learn about your powers with us."

"If I said I liked learning math with you, can I _not_ go to school?"

"Sorry, it's already been decided. Everyone agrees it'd be best for you."

"Did Mr. LeBeau agree too?" Jessie asked quickly; she caught the look in Miss Grey's eyes from the rear view mirror.

"Mr. LeBeau is away right now, and doesn't know...but he's..." she paused. "He would agree that it is what's best for you."

Jessie folded her arms stubbornly. "When do I get to decide what's best for me?"

"When you're eighteen," smirked Miss Grey. "Until then, you have to just trust us that we know what's best."


	3. Chapter 3: Feeling Hopeless

Chapter Three – Feeling Hopeless

Rogue stared down into the Danger room from where she sat in the control annex as she watched Scott's students practising taking out the new holographic robots from one of the sentinel programs.

The red eyes of the sentinels reminded Rogue of Remy – that deep bright red they would flash when they were angry. She wondered how Remy was doing, far away on Muir Island where he was intent on not calling anyone so he could focus on getting better rather than on what was happening back in Bayville.

_Eleven days,_ she thought. _Eleven days and not a word, not even a letter or...even a message._ She wondered how he was coping – had he been through the treatment yet? Was he getting the right help? Was he already benefiting? She had so many questions and she couldn't ask him anything.

"You seem distracted," the Professor at her side said, he pushed a button to release a wave of smaller sentinels on the students, watching carefully how they responded in turn. They went down quickly, one by one, especially as Monet St. Croix who was leading the team, had the strength to take out most of them herself.

"Just...thinkin' about Remy, is all," Rogue said, "Sorry, I know I'm _meant_ to be focusing, here."

"Ah," said the Professor. "He is fine, in case you wondered."

"Has he called?" Rogue asked, she wondered why the Professor hadn't even mentioned this piece of much needed to know information up until now. Why had he let her stew?

"I called Moira this morning," the Professor replied, "he's healing."

"Healing?" Rogue asked, she turned her chair to face the Professor, "that's it? He's _healing._"

She didn't receive an answer, instead, the Professor glanced to the clock, and he shut down the program. He spoke into the microphone. "Well done, team. In thirty minutes you took down three full sized sentinels and twenty small. Now you must get ready for your morning classes."

The students left the danger room one by one

Rogue folded her arms, "Monet took most of them out, it wasn't even _team_ work. God knows why you want her to be the leader of that team."

"She's the most rational," said the Professor.

"So..." said Remy. "Remy is _healing. _ He's been away for eleven full days and he's _healing_? That's _it?_"

The Professor smiled just a little, "he's doing well. His wound is healing."

"And his mind?"

"I'm afraid I wasn't passed on that information," said the Professor, his smile fading.

"I don't know why he chose to do all this without keeping in contact," Rogue wiped a finger absently across the control panel to inspect for dust.

"He needs to be free of worry and distraction; not that I'm suggesting you're a distraction, but...he may find it easier to cope with therapy while being alone...rather than worrying about how you feel regarding the situation."

"I'd be behind him all the way – I _am_ behind him."

"Your support even from thousands of miles away is strong enough to help him, and he knows that."

"I just wish...I could be with him. I hate feeling helpless. I should have been helping him long ago – things have been slipping and I haven't been noticing. If I'd done something sooner...maybe he'd be fine."

"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Rogue."

"So you're saying that I couldn't have helped...that it had to be _his _decision?"

The Professor faltered, she was unsure why. "What's done is done – you can't undo the past. You can only move on – and worrying about what you didn't do or didn't notice won't change anything..."

"But I want to help him."

"He needs to help himself, Rogue."

Rogue sighed deeply, she shook her head, "I feel like...I failed him, somewhat."

"How could you have failed him?"

"Don't you remember how he _was_ before he met me? He was so...normal. He was a sexist egotistical pig but...he was normal. Now, he's just...broken."

"Rogue...manic depression is an imbalance of the brain...nothing _caused _his depression. Situations may attribute to it, but this was something that was going to happen regardless of his life turned out."

"But..." Rogue was intent on reminding the Professor of how care-free Remy had seemed back in his much younger and healthier days.

"Rogue...think back very carefully. His mood swings, his quiet demeanour, you once told me he threatened to cut himself to prevent himself from ever being unfaithful. Do these _seem _like the actions of a rational person?"

She had to think about this; there were things she hadn't thought about in a long time, such as that Halloween night when he'd tried to cut himself with a swiss army knife. And his reaction to finding out she'd been raped...trying to kill the one responsible. "It all happened after Gabrielle's death...I just assumed that...it was all just stress, that he was depressed about _that. _It never for a minute occurred to me..."

"Remy has been ill for some time, Rogue. It just wasn't obvious to any of us, least of all him."

Rogue sighed, "this is such a mess."

"It will get better. Remy has taken those first steps and soon, he'll be healing, mentally as well as physically."


	4. Chapter 4: First Day

Chapter Four – First Day

Jessie hated the uniform; she gazed at herself in the mirror and pouted at her reflection. The blazer was still too big for her, and her fingers were nearly engulfed by the sleeves. The skirt was dark red plaid, and while she could have lived with that, the navy cardigan beneath with the Mathers school emblem on the pocket was boring and somehow, she felt, took away everything about her that was girly and fun. The shirt collar was too tight, and the tie was uncomfortable. The uniform reminded her of the plain black pants and navy sweatshirt she'd had to wear at the orphanage, back in the day when she'd been forced to wear her hair back in a tight braid all the time, where she'd had to tie up her plain black shoes with difficulty when no one had ever bothered to teach her how to do so.

Yes...that was what she didn't like about the Mathers Academy uniform. It reminded her too much of Jessie Crowell, the orphan, with the tightly braided hair and the black tie up shoes that were slightly too big and the sweaters the same colour as the teachers jackets. Boys and girls had worn the same cuts of clothes – all looking frumpy, clothes all ill fitting and ugly.

One of her favourite things about coming to the Institute had been receiving more clothes than she'd ever owned in her life and being able to wear bright colourful clothing that made her look like a girl. She'd been allowed to wear her long tawny coloured hair out, given the choice to put colourful bows and sparkling clips in her hair if she so wished. That was the girl she wanted to be – colourful and happy. Not drab and frumpy.

"Come on, Jessie, stop pouting," said Miss Grey with a sigh, "You know the Professor spent a lot of money on this uniform so the least you can do is be nice and pretend you like it if he asks, even if you absolutely hate it."

"But I _do_ hate it," Jessie frowned.

"I think it's kind of adorable myself," Miss Grey admitted, she stepped back to observe the whole outfit thoughtfully, "In fact...I think it makes you look _very_ smart. And much older than you are."

_I don't look older though, _thought Jessie miserably at her reflection. She looked younger than seven thanks to her smaller stature and wearing the plaid skirt only seemed to make her look even shorter. _I'm going to be the _shortest _kid in school! _

It had been a very fast week, but then, there had been so much preparation for school; getting books, getting shoes, getting measured for the uniform, and having to go through two hours of power training every day so that she would be sure to be ready to _not_ use them when Monday came.

Miss Grey stepped up behind Jessie with the hairbrush and she ran it through the girls very long tawny locks in a gentle motion. "Now...if anyone asks you where you live, what are you to say?"

Jessie sighed; they'd been over this drill several times already, "with my very rich uncle."

"And what does he do for a living?"

"He's involved in..." she paused, the word she couldn't remember even though she'd only been reminded of it ten minutes before.

"Politics. He's involved in _politics._"

"Politics..." Jessie said slowly.

"And what are you _not_ to do?"

"Use my powers, talk about mutants, or tell _anyone_ what I saw here."

"Very good," Miss Grey began to braid Jessie's hair neatly. "You'll be fine at school."

She looked over her shoulder to look at the tall redhead, "I don't want to go...I don't think they'll like me."

"Of course they'll like you – how can they not? You're a sweet and caring little girl and everyone will want to be your friends."

Jessie didn't miss a beat, "as _long_ as they think I'm _not _a mutant."

Miss Grey's face fell, she sighed, "it's unfair, isn't it? But we've all had to pretend to be something we're not. Lying isn't a very nice thing to do, but it's sometimes necessary to _survive._ I had to go to a public high school and _pretend_ to be human. So did Rogue, and Kitty, and Kurt, and Hank was a teacher there and even _he_ was pretending to be normal. So it's not like we're asking you to do something we wouldn't do ourselves," she turned Jessie's head back so she'd face the mirror and continued to braid her long tawny hair.

It wasn't that she didn't believe Miss Grey; she did in some ways. But there seemed to be something just so...wrong...about being sent to a real school and having to pretend to be completely human after having been taught there was nothing wrong with being a mutant, after having been given the freedom for six months to never worry about who or what she was.

"Don't worry so much, Jessie. You're too young to be worrying," Jean finished off the braid with a plain black hair-tie.

Jessie felt miserable as she stared at herself in the mirror; she just looked so unlike the vision of herself she'd grown used to seeing for the past six months living at the mansion. This sudden decision to send her to school was confusing and she expected she would be due some more confusion when she entered a strange school she didn't know, with strange people she didn't know, and strange children she didn't know.

"I've packed a lunch for you..." Miss Grey said, "the teachers will let you know when you can eat it," she took Jessie's hand and led her out of the bedroom; they walked down the stairs together.

As they approached the bottom of the stairs, Miss Pryde was standing there with Caleb resting against her shoulder, a very plain black backpack in her free hand.

"Wow, Jessie, you look _so _grown up," Miss Pryde cooed. "Like a real lady in that uniform."

Jessie didn't agree, "it's _stupid._ And it's itchy."

"You'll get used to it," Miss Grey said behind her.

"Good luck on your first day," said Miss Pryde.

_Good luck_, thought Jessie sullenly. It was fine to say good luck when it was something that Miss Pryde didn't have to face. She would be here, with the baby. Jessie had already felt mostly forgotten about but now being sent to school made her feel even more so. She'd be further away from the people she loved – easier to forget about. She wondered if they really did plan to pick her up after school or if this was just a whole new orphanage.

"Why the sad face?" asked Miss Pryde.

"Am I coming _back_?" Jessie asked with concern.

"Of course you are," said Miss Grey, she took the backpack from Miss Pryde, "now come on, or you'll be late for your first day."

Secretly, Jessie thought it'd be _fine_ if she missed her first day. It'd be _fine_ if she missed _every _day. After climbing into Miss Grey's car she glanced out of the window at the mansion hoping it wasn't going to be for the final time.


	5. Chapter 5: If Looks Could Kill

Chapter Five – If Looks Could Kill

"She was so mad at me," said Jean at the kitchen table during lunch; she and Rogue were sitting having their lunch of salad and orange juice. "She didn't say it but...wow, I mean, when I left her in that class room...if looks could kill, I swear I'd have a hole in my chest."

Rogue stared across at Jean, she'd only half been listening. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

"She'll get used to it eventually," Jean popped a small tomato in her mouth.

As Rogue pushed the pieces of salad around on her plate, she wondered if the girl would get used to a private school and being with other children after having lived with mutants for half of a year. It seemed quite unfair somehow to throw her in to that deep end quite suddenly. The poor girl's head must have been spinning from all the sudden changes she would be facing, becoming a student at a real school.

_I'll help her,_ thought Rogue. A pang of guilt gnawed at her; Remy had asked her to keep an eye on Jessie and she realised she had been doing a very poor job of it. The girl had needed constant supervision since the incident the week before when she'd somehow managed to break an elevator and find herself in the hangar. However, Rogue hadn't volunteered for any supervision duties. She found it hard to be around the girl; hard to talk to her, to connect.

She thought it funny that she worked with children – albeit slightly older – but she had no instinct of mothering or caring for them.

_I guess it's because I assigned myself to the fact I'm never gonna _have _'em,_ Rogue thought as she took a sip from her orange juice.

It saddened her; somewhere deep inside she wanted to bond with Jessie but couldn't find the right actions or words to do so. Remy, however, had somehow managed to do so very naturally while she even struggled to speak with the girl. _I need to make her a part of my life, since Remy seems so determined to make her part of his,_ Rogue thought.

Ideally, she didn't want to have Jessie as part of that life; it wasn't jealousy...she had to reiterate that fact to herself time and time again although part of her secretly envied that Remy seemed to enjoy spending as much time with Jessie as he did with her. But the factor of her own strength came into question; how easy would it be to hurt the little girl without meaning to? With super strength it would be incredibly easy to accidentally swat her or bump her and end up breaking a limb. Remy himself had often complained to her time and time again that she simply didn't know her own strength when touching others.

_It'd be so much safer if she just kept her distance from me,_ Rogue thought. _Then she'd never have the chance to get hurt._

"You seem pretty distracted," said Jean. She picked up a carrot stick and bit into it; it made a sharp crunch in her perfect teeth. "Are you alright?"

Rogue shook her head, "I'm fine, really," she answered softly. "Just...wondering about Remy...about how he's doing," she lied. She pondered – even momentarily – that Jean had anticipated the lie. She often wondered if Jean could read her thoughts even accidentally. All the same, she didn't want to admit her fears about being near Jessie.

"Have you heard from him yet? How is he?" Jean asked.

"The professor said he's fine," answered Rogue after a moment of hesitation. "But...I just...I don't know, I guess I can't be sure of anything unless I hear Remy's voice _telling_ me he's fine."

"If the Professor says he's fine..." Jean reminded.

"Yes, it's not that I _don't_ trust the Prof. In all honesty, if you can't trust him, who _can_ you trust. But...the thing is...Remy is too far away from here for _any _of us to know how he is. Even the Professor. And Moira can claim he's fine all she wants, but she isn't a psychiatrist, and she doesn't _know _Remy like we do...she isn't _qualified_ to come to any conclusions about how _fine_ he is."

"That's true," Jean nodded.

"I think the worst part is that I don't know if I want to just hear Remy's voice to make _myself_ feel better about everything, or just to hear his voice so I know _he's_ alright or not so I can make plans to go out and be there with him," Rogue put her fork down and sighed. "Maybe I should have insisted I go there with him for moral support."

"You had obligations here, Rogue. Besides, the regeneration therapy takes days to work, you'd have spent the first week on your own not knowing what to do with yourself either way. At least here, you can be constructive, and keep yourself occupied."

"Logically, I know that," said Rogue. "I just...I want to be near him...so much has happened lately that...I feel so much closer to him than I ever did. Being apart from him is like...having a lung ripped from me. I can still breathe—but it's _so_ much harder."

"It's just two more weeks. Fourteen more days and Remy will be back here, and things will be back to the way they used to be."

"I don't think anything will be back to the way they used to be, Jean. And it's _fine _if it doesn't. I don't want to go back in time – it's not like life was ever simpler back then either. And I've made my peace with the fact that my life with Remy might not ever be perfect or ideal...and I've made peace with the fact that he'll be suffering with manic depression for the rest of his life."

Jean smiled a little, "you're so strong, Rogue. I can't imagine going through as much as you and Remy have together and still be strong enough to accept that there's more difficult times to come."

Rogue sighed and brushed a lock of the white of her hair away from her cheek before; she pushed her plate away, not very hungry this afternoon at all. "I don't have a choice in this, Jean. I have to be strong – at least until Remy can find his own strength again."


	6. Chapter 6: First Instrument

Chapter Six – First Instrument

Jessie was miserable; school was excruciating and she'd known from the get-go that it would be. She was the smallest in her class – so small that her feet didn't even touch the ground when she sat on the chair at her desk.

_I'm _too _small,_ she thought miserably as she stared across the class room at the teacher, Mrs. Yeats. Mrs. Yeats was a woman around the Professor's age who had her greying hair exquisitely pinned up in a neat twist at the back of her head. Her glasses had one of those old fashioned chains dangling from the legs to keep them around her neck when she wasn't wearing them. The woman was standing at the blackboard, trying to explain some kind of mathematical problem that Jessie just couldn't get her head around.

It made Jessie even more miserable that she was so far behind the rest of the students. They had half a year ahead of her in first grade, and seemed to know far more than she did about everything. When the teachers asked questions, they all raised their hands in the air to answer. Except from Jessie that was. She didn't understand the questions, let alone the answers that they were all giving out

The more Jessie tried to focus on what the teacher was saying, the less she felt she understood and the harder she felt it to try and pay attention.

She glanced down to her work sheet and pouted. _This is probably my fault,_ she decided. _If I hadn't broken the rules and messed up the elevator then Professor wouldn't have thought I needed to be in a school_.

"Jasmine, are you paying attention?"

Jessie raised her eyes to the teacher; she heard the giggle of her new class mates. She hated her name – she'd always preferred Jessie to Jasmine even though she was unsure of how she'd ended up with the nickname in the first place. It felt somewhat embarrassing that her new teachers had refused to call her by her nickname. So the name Jasmine was sticking in the classroom, and it embarrassed her more than she'd thought it would.

"Yes, Mrs. Yeats," said Jessie quietly, her cheeks flushing hot instantly.

"What is ten times three," asked Mrs. Yeats, she gestured to the sum up on the board, written in bright yellow chalk.

Jessie didn't know the answer; the students giggled again, making her even more self concious.

"That's so easy," said a boy to the back of her, snickering to himself.

"We just went over this, Jasmine. You should know the answer," the teacher smacked the board with a ruler to point to the sum. "What is ten times three?"

"Ten threes..." Jessie said to herself. "Nine?"

"Oh dear," said the teacher, shaking her head.

A burst of laughter in the class made Jessie sink in her chair a little more.

"What a retard," she heard a girl mumble at her back.

Jessie bit into her lip hard and tried to keep from crying. Her eyes stung with fresh tears.

"Now, now, class," said Mrs. Yeats, "we'll have none of that. Let us not forget, you all have six months ahead of Jasmine."

Jessie was somewhat grateful for the teachers allowance for not knowing the answer, but at the same time, humiliated for having to remind the class of how far behind she was. And she couldn't quite forgive the woman for trying to make her answer the question when it had been surely obvious she could have never known that answer in the first place?

She was glad when the math portion of the day ended; at lunch time, Jessie sat by herself in the cafeteria with her packed lunch Miss Grey had made her. She bit into her cheese sandwich, watching all the kids sitting together, laughing together. She was almost sure the ones from her class were already talking about her.

After lunch, it was an hour of art – painting a picture of a flower that Mrs. Yeats had on her desk. Jessie was glad of the art, as it was the only thing in school so far it seemed that she could do reasonably well without much help. But after art was over – far too quickly for Jessie's liking – it was on to listening to a chapter of a story, which later, they would have to answer questions about.

Jessie tried to listen intently although her mind wandered regardless; the chapter Mrs. Yeats was reading mentioned Paris in France, and Jessie thought of the French Toast that Mr. LeBeau had made her for Christmas dinner.

She wondered how Mr. LeBeau was. It seemed as if it had been such a long time and she had not heard from him at all – she had not even heard anyone else speak about him to mention if he was okay. It bothered her; if no one was speaking about him, could something bad have happened? Would it be impolite to ask the Professor if perhaps he could shed some light on what had happened? Surely he must know something – he seemed to know everything else.

Luckily, the teacher did not call on her to answer any questions during the reading of the chapter – and soon, the school bell was ringing, indicating it was the end of the day. It had felt as if the day had dragged on at the school and she was thankful.

She made sure she was the last child to leave the class so she could avoid any negative attention – she'd had enough of it during the day to last a lifetime. She grabbed her blazer from the peg in the hallway and pulled it on, hating the stiff feeling of the material, and the itchiness of it against her neck.

Outside, she was surprised to see that instead of Miss Grey's Toyota Prius, it was Professor Xavier's stunning black Rolls Royce Phantom parked waiting for her. She rushed over to the car – which she'd only ever seen in the garage, but never been inside. Mr. Summers was leaning against the car, his ruby glasses gleaming in the light from the sun which had managed to break through the clouds. She grinned and rushed over as he opened the door of the car – she was surprised that the door of the car opened out the opposite way of what she'd thought it would.

Jessie was well aware of the envious looks of her fellow classmates waiting outside the school to be picked up by their parents; she wondered if any of their parents or families had a car so splendid and although it seemed somewhat snobby, she felt momentarily vindicated for all of their whispering and giggling during the day.

The Professor was sitting in the back seat beside the one she climbed into. Her booster seat had been placed into the seat beside him for and she sat properly and let Mr. Summers buckle her in.

"How was your first day of school?" asked the Professor once the car was moving smoothly away from the school.

"Borrrrrrrrrring," Jessie made a face. She noted that there was something on the Professor's lap. A rather strange case made of what looked like hard black plastic, or maybe leather – and a rather ridiculously big decorative pink bow was on the largest flat size facing up. "All the kids made fun of me and laughed because I _didn't_ know what three times ten is."

"I'm sure their laughing will stop soon," the Professor promised.

"And the teacher calls me _Jasmine_," Jessie frowned. "I wish she wouldn't."

"When I attended that school we were all called by our _last _names. So think yourself lucky," the Professor chuckled. "I brought a present for you," he leaned over to put it onto her lap.

Jessie stared down at it, "but it's not even my birthday or christmas," she said.

"It's a going to school present. Open it..." the Professor suggested.

Curiously, she unfastened the gleaming silver clips holding the case shut and she slipped it open. Inside, the lining was deep purple velvet, cushioning a wooden instrument which was beautiful and expensive looking – she knew the name for it, but couldn't think of it off the top of her head.

"It's a violin," said the Professor. "I know you'll be taking music classes, and I thought this might come in handy for you."

She was speechless, she wasn't sure what to make of the beautiful violin sitting there in the case on her lap. It looked so expensive she was even afraid to touch it. "I don't know how to play a violin though..." she pouted.

"You will," said the Professor reassuringly, "there's a music class during your school hours three days a week – and an after school music class twice a week on Wednesdays and Fridays."

Jessie gently ran her small hands across the instrument; it was smaller than the ones she'd seen the adults playing on television; a child sized violin perfect for someone as small as she was. She wondered if it would sound as pretty though.

"The violin is a wonderful instrument...when I looked around the music shop I saw many instruments, but...the violin spoke to me."

"It did?" Jessie's wide blue-grey eyes met his, "what did it say?" she asked in a tiny whisper.

"It told me that I should buy it because it is like you – small, and pretty, with the power to make many people feel many things," he smirked. "Of course," he said, suddenly quite seriously, "you...don't need to feel obligated to like the instrument. If you don't like it, I can return it, and we can get you any other instrument you want – that is, anything other than an electric guitar..."

"No...no, I like it," Jessie assured. And she did; gazing down and the instrument she felt a connection to it. Suddenly, she very much _wanted_ to know how to play it. And not just play it by messing around making noises with it, but play it like it was meant to be played – however that was meant to be. "I just...I don't know how to play it."

"You will learn," the Professor smiled.

Jessie grinned, "thank you, Professor. I love it," she assured. Of course, she realised, she was going to have to go to school to learn how to play it which wasn't ideal, but it at least gave her something to look forward to in having to go to there. If she had to put up with the misery, at least there should be _one_ good thing, right?

The End - Or is it? Mwahahahahahah!!!!!

(Okay been a while since I've updated – while it's taking so long I can promise that there are several episodes more written – at least up to 18 and I'm going to try and find the time to get them up for y'all ;) You know the drill, if you liked it or had any thoughts, review and let me know. I appreciate everyone's reviews!)


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